


Make the Yuletide Gay

by CrowsAtAPicnic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M, tis the season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2678168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowsAtAPicnic/pseuds/CrowsAtAPicnic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh my god I was looking through Christmas song lyrics for a good title for this and I saw this line from "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas"</p>
<p>I couldn't help myself</p>
<p>Anyway enjoy this fic the tags pretty much speak for themselves</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make the Yuletide Gay

When he comes in for a third time in three days, you give a little laugh as you hand his two dozen donuts over the counter to him and say, “so what, you’ve just been really craving donuts for the past few days?”

The street outside is still gray with dawn, but if you were outside you’d see the gradually lightening sky as the sun rises over the city. His sunglasses give him an impassive expression when he stares back at you, but you see the corner of his lips twitch up as he takes the boxes from you. “Nah, lowest guy on the food chain is on food duty when the bigger fish are in week-long meetings like these. Trying to get all the work done before the holidays, stuff like that.” 

“Well, those guys up in the meeting room don’t know that the chocolate ones with the powdered sugar on them are the best,” you tell him with a grin, and you think you see the other corner of his mouth lift a little in response. It’s almost a full smile, and you count that as a victory for the morning.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says with a small nod, and then the bell is jingling as he walks back out into the December chill. Other busy New Yorkers bustle by, and you allow yourself a moment to wonder why he wasn’t wearing a heavier coat over his fancy skinny tie before you go back to work, stocking up pastries and warming coffee for your morning rush.

You don’t see him again until that weekend, and even then you hardly recognize him. His pale blond hair was no longer impeccably styled into an effortless swoosh, and his slim black slacks and dress shoes were replaced with tattered red skinny jeans and worn-looking gray converse. He actually looked a little miserable when he slipped into the bakery around 10am, bundled up to his nose in a red plaid scarf but still lacking a proper coat. He points at the chocolate donut with powdered sugar that you’d put into the display case a few minutes before, and you slip him a cup of coffee across the counter when you ring him up.

“I didn’t order that,” he says, gesturing to the coffee.

“It’s on the house,” you reply with a small smile, trying to find his eyes behind his ever-present shades. “You look like you needed it this morning. Only crazy people walk around New York in mid December wearing nothing but a scarf, you know.”

He hands you a few bills and takes the coffee, cupping it between his hands. “Trust me, if I was really wearing nothing but a scarf you would give me more than a free coffee,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You go red but manage to roll your eyes.

“You know what I meant. And what, no meetings today?” 

“Firm closed on Friday,” he mumbled around the donut he just bit into. “Rich stockbrokers can afford to give themselves the holidays off, apparently.”

Your eyebrows raise a little. “Stocks?” You figured he’d be in fashion, or filmmaking—he definitely knew how to dress to make himself look good. Not that you were checking him out.

Okay, you were checking him out a little bit.

He nods, bringing you back to the conversation. “Came to this infernal city for the music scene, but apparently so did every other twenty-something wannabe hipster, so I figured out pretty quick that the money was on Wall Street. I’m only an intern right now, but I’ve been told I have a knack for stock shit.” He shrugs.

“I didn’t want to be a baker very much either, but not every kid is lucky to inherit a steady business. I wasn’t going to turn that down.” You glance around the shop, empty except for the two of you, and chuckle a little. “Not that we’re very busy at the moment. All the action’s where the Christmas shoppers go, I guess.”

He’s silent for a moment, and the Christmas music that’s been filtering through your speakers steadily since November tinkles gently to fill the gap in conversation. His nose is red and, you suddenly notice, studded with freckles. You try and fail to keep your gaze off of his lips, which are pink and a little chapped and have a few flecks of powdered sugar on them from the donut. 

He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something just as you go “Hey—“, and you both fall silent waiting for the other to speak first. You blush because you were about to say something really stupid and quickly apologize, saying “You first.”

He takes a deep breath. “Okay. Um, so. I officially have no life until after New Years, since the firm is on vacation. You wouldn’t want to, like.” He goes red and seems to focus on the coffee in his hands for a minute (just long enough for you to start breathing too fast, actually). “Ugh. We could hang out sometime?” He seems to glance up at you (though with his shades on you can’t really tell), and your mind is a little scrambled all the sudden so you kind of forget to move your mouth. His shoulders slump minutely, barely enough for you to tell, and he grabs the once-bitten donut off the counter between you and heads for the door.

“Sorry,” he calls over his shoulder, then pushes open the door, hesitates, and then says “thanks for the coffee.” The bell jingles and you stare uselessly after him for exactly two seconds before you mentally slap yourself and scramble out from behind the counter, struggling with the little swinging side door and then struggling again with the front door of the bakery. He’s ten feet away, walking briskly with his shoulders hunched from the cold. 

You can’t exactly abandon your store, but you go as far out as you can while still holding the door. “Hey!” you call after him, and he stops, slowly turning around. The wind channeling between the buildings on either side of the street parts his hair messily down the center, and it makes him look like a complete dingus but you are still somehow weirdly attracted to him. He shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably, and you take a second to realize you’re supposed to say something now. You hadn’t actually planned this far in your head.

“Yeah. Um,” you lick your lips. “I would like that! The store closes at four today, if you. If you want to. Go. Somewhere.” You look at your feet, then back up at him just in time to see him crack a full smile at you, teeth and everything. 

“I’ll see you then,” he calls back to you, and you beam at him. “Now shut the door, you’re letting all the heat out of your store.” And just like that, he’s walking away from you again, but this time it’s a little less hunched and a little more springy. 

You can’t help but smile for the rest of the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Dave has a NAK for stocks
> 
> geddit??
> 
> ((this was originally supposed to be a one shot but now I'm hoping it will only be two chapters because I REALLY don't need another unfinished fic in my archives))


End file.
